The morning sun had climbed above the horizon, spilling golden light across the apartment garden, painting the grass in shades of amber and green.

Yuuta sat cross-legged on the damp earth, his notebook spread open before him, his pen tucked behind his ear, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Around him, the garden was coming alive, birds sang in the trees, insects buzzed among the flowers, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked at something only it could see.

Elena played nearby, chasing a butterfly with outstretched arms, her silver hair streaming behind her like a banner. Normally, Yuuta would have been chasing her, would have caught the butterfly in his cupped hands and presented it to her with a flourish, would have reveled in her laughter and her awe.

But not today.

Today, he had no time for such things.

He had to become stronger.

He had to learn aura.

He had to stand beside Erza, or at the very least, not be a burden she had to carry.

The notebook was filled with Erza’s words, words he had transcribed carefully, desperately, hoping that if he wrote them down enough times, they would begin to make sense. But they did not make sense. They were complicated, layered, dense with concepts that seemed designed to confuse rather than illuminate.

He read the passage again, his lips moving silently.

"The quantity of aura an individual attracts is determined by the compatibility coefficient between their soul structure and the surrounding celestial currents."

He stared at the words.

He read them again.

He read them a third time.

"What the fuck does this even mean?" he muttered, rubbing his temples with both hands. He had been sitting here for two hours, and he had made exactly zero progress.

The words blurred together, forming shapes that seemed to mock him. He could feel a headache building behind his eyes, the kind that came from trying to understand something that was fundamentally beyond his grasp.

Above him, on the apartment balcony, Erza watched.

She leaned against the railing, her chin resting on her folded arms, her violet eyes fixed on the foolish mortal who was trying so hard to understand something she had made deliberately incomprehensible.

She had not meant to make it impossible, not entirely. She had simply wanted to protect him. If he could not understand the theory, he could not practice the techniques. If he could not practice the techniques, he could not risk reopening his sealed memories.

But watching him struggle, watching him frown and mutter and rub his temples, she felt something twist in her chest.

He is trying so hard, she thought. For me.

She smiled.

Yuuta tapped his chin with his pen, his eyes scanning the garden as if the answer might be hiding behind a bush. How could he learn this in a simpler way? There had to be a method, a technique, a trick that would make the concepts accessible. He could not be the first person to struggle with aura theory.

Then an idea struck him.

His eyes widened. His lips curled into a smile that was slightly evil, slightly mischievous, the smile of a man who had just found a shortcut.

AI, he thought. I can use AI. I will feed the text into an AI, and it will translate it into something I can understand.

He pulled out his phone, his fingers moving quickly, and laid the notebook on the ground. He took a photograph, careful to capture the entire page, careful to ensure the lighting was adequate. The sun was bright enough, the shadows minimal. It should work.

From the balcony, Erza watched with curiosity.

What was he doing? He had taken out his phone, taken a picture of the notebook, and was now staring at the screen with an expression of intense concentration.

What foolishness is this? she wondered, leaning forward slightly.

The AI application scanned the image for several seconds.

Yuuta waited confidently.

Then the result appeared.

Error: User handwriting could not be identified by the current database.

Yuuta stared at the screen.

The screen stared back.

His eye twitched.

"What do you mean unidentified? It’s perfectly readable!"

Above him, Erza immediately understood what had happened. She glanced at her own notes and then back at Yuuta. A smile slowly appeared on her face.

Determined not to lose to a machine, Yuuta began typing every word manually. It took far longer than he expected. Some of the symbols looked more like ancient runes than actual writing, and several times he had to stop and guess whether a character was a letter or a drawing.

By the time he finished, he felt as though he had completed an exam.

"Let’s see you reject this."

He pressed submit.

The AI processed the information.

Several seconds passed.

Yuuta leaned forward.

Finally, the answer appeared.

Error: The submitted concepts contain unknown knowledge not currently recognized by human understanding. Additional information required.

For a moment, Yuuta simply sat there.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

Then another.

A deep breath entered his lungs.

"Fuck AI!"

His voice echoed through the garden.

Above him, Erza burst into laughter.

She had been trying to hold it back, but seeing Yuuta lose a battle against both her notes and modern technology was simply too much.

The mighty Dragon Queen leaned against the railing, laughing openly as Yuuta glared at the phone like it had personally insulted his ancestors.

"Shitty AI," Yuuta muttered. "You can’t even understand handwriting nor concept."

He tossed the phone onto the grass and folded his arms.

Behind him, Elena had stopped chasing butterflies. She stood with her hands on her hips, her red eyes wide, her mouth slightly open. She had heard her father say a word she had never heard before, a word that sounded exciting, dangerous, forbidden.

"Shitty AI," she repeated, her voice bright with discovery.

Yuuta froze.

He turned his head slowly, mechanical, like a man who was afraid of what he would see. Elena stood behind him, smiling, her silver hair blowing in the morning breeze, her small hands clasped behind her back.

"No," Yuuta said. "Elena, do not say that."

"Shitty AI," Elena said again, savoring the syllables. "Shitty. AI."

"I said do not say that!"

Elena giggled and ran, darting behind a young tree, peeking out from behind the trunk with eyes full of mischief.

"Elena will tell Mama that Daddy used a curse word," she announced. "Elena will tell Mama everything."

"No, no, no." Yuuta scrambled to his feet, his notebook forgotten, his pen falling from his ear. "Elena, please, do not tell Mama. Mama will."

"Elena will tell her!" she sang, dancing around the tree. "Elena will tell her! Elena will tell her!"

Yuuta lunged for her. She dodged. He lunged again. She dodged again, laughing, her small feet carrying her across the grass with a speed that should not have been possible for a child her age.

Above them, Erza watched.

She leaned against the balcony railing, her chin resting on her folded arms, her smile widening as she watched her husband chase her daughter around the garden.

The morning light caught her hair, turning it to molten silver. The breeze carried Elena’s laughter to her ears.

Mortal, Erza thought, if Elena says that word to me, you will surely die.

She cracked her knuckles, her smile widening.

Below, Yuuta felt a sudden chill run down his spine, a premonition, a warning, a message from his body that he was about to be in serious trouble.

He ran faster.

"Elena, please! I will buy you ice cream! I will buy you all the ice cream!"

"Elena will tell Mama!"

"Elena, I am begging you."

"What a fool husband I have..." Erza murmured, but her voice was warm.

She watched Yuuta stumble, watched Elena dodge, watched them both collapse onto the grass in a heap of giggles and protests.

She watched him tickle his daughter until she shrieked with laughter, watched her wrap her small arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

Then the knock came.

Knock. Knock.

Erza turned away from the balcony, away from the chase, away from the foolish mortal who had just doomed himself. Her face shifted, the warmth draining away, the softness hardening, the smile fading into something cold and distant.

She knew who was at the door. She had called her earlier that morning, had told her to come, had known that this moment would arrive whether she was ready for it or not.

She opened the door.

Fiona stood in the hallway, her arm still in a sling, her face pale but determined. Her hazel eyes met Erza’s violet ones, and for a moment, neither woman spoke.

"Come in," Erza said.

Fiona stepped inside.

The morning light continued to rise over Luna City, indifferent to the weight of what was coming. In the garden below, Yuuta and Elena laughed and played, unaware that their world was about to shift.

Fifteen minutes later, Yuuta lay sprawled on the grass, his arms stretched above his head, his eyes fixed on the endless blue sky. The morning sun was warm against his face, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass and distant flowers. Beside him, Elena sat cross-legged, her small hands wrapped around a cone of ice cream, vanilla with sprinkles, the bribe that had purchased her silence.

She was licking it with the expertise of a tiny gourmet, her red eyes half-closed in bliss, her silver hair falling across her cheeks. Every few seconds, she would glance at her father, then at the apartment building, then back at her ice cream, as if ensuring that her mother was not watching.

Yuuta closed his eyes.

He tried to remember the words Erza had spoken, the theories she had explained, the complex layers of meaning that had slipped through his mind like water through a sieve. He could not recall most of it. The terms blended together, the concepts blurred, the sentences folded into themselves until they became meaningless.

But one phrase had stuck.

Know yourself.

The words echoed through his mind, simple and profound, the only part of Erza’s lecture that had made any sense. Know yourself. Accept what you truly are. Only then can aura awaken.

"Know yourself," he murmured, his brow furrowing. "What does that even mean?"

He already knew who he was.

He was Yuuta Konuari. A normal human. A culinary student. A father. A husband. What else was there to discover? What hidden truth was he supposed to uncover?

He had spent his entire life trying to understand himself, his fears, his desires, his limitations, and he had never found anything that would unlock hidden power.

He sat up abruptly, disturbing Elena, who made a small sound of protest and clutched her ice cream closer to her chest.

Maybe, he thought, I need to try something different.

Something bold.

Something dramatic.

An image flashed through his mind, a scene from an anime he had watched years ago, where the hero thrust his hands forward and screamed, and energy exploded from his palms in a brilliant surge of light and power.

He remembered the intensity, the music swelling in the background, the ground cracking beneath the hero’s feet as he unleashed everything he had.

He knew it was foolish. He knew it was ridiculous. He knew that real power did not work like that, that aura was not something you could summon with passion and volume, that screaming at the sky would not magically transform him into a warrior.

But he was desperate.

What did he have to lose? Dignity? He had already knelt before Erza, already begged her to teach him, already admitted that he was weak.

A little screaming could not make things worse.

He climbed to his feet, his legs slightly unsteady, his heart pounding. He brushed the grass from his pants and rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the tension that had built up during hours of frustrating study.

Elena looked up at him, her ice cream dripping onto her fingers.

"Papa, what are you doing?"

Yuuta did not answer.

He was focused. He was centered. He was channeling every ounce of belief he had ever possessed.

He positioned himself in the center of the garden, facing the apartment building, his feet shoulder-width apart, his arms at his sides. The morning sun was behind him, casting his shadow long across the grass. The birds had stopped singing. The insects had paused their buzzing. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

He thrust both hands forward.

The air tensed around him, or perhaps it was just his imagination, the power of suggestion, the desperate hope of a man who had run out of options. He closed his eyes, furrowing his brow, trying to draw out some unknown power from the depths of his soul.

He could feel it. Energy, gathering in his palms. Power, building in his chest. The universe, leaning forward to witness his awakening.

"Kamehame."

He paused. Narrowed his eyes. Believed, with every fiber of his being, that something was about to happen.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The scream tore from his throat, raw and desperate, carrying across the garden with the force of a man who had nothing left to lose. His arms shook. His face turned red. His veins bulged in his neck. He pushed everything he had into that scream, every ounce of frustration, every drop of determination, every desperate prayer that maybe, just maybe, something would happen.

Silence.

Nothing happened.

Not a spark. Not a flicker. Not the slightest hint of energy leaving his body. No glow. No wind. No dramatic music swelling in the background. Just the sound of his own panting and the distant chirp of a bird that had returned to its business.

Yuuta stood frozen, his hands still outstretched, his face burning, not from effort, but from shame. He could feel eyes on him.

Many eyes.

The couple jogging along the path had stopped mid-stride, their faces frozen in expressions of alarm. The man’s hand was halfway to his wife’s. The woman’s mouth was slightly open. Farther down the path, an elderly woman walking her dog had paused, her hand over her heart. The dog was barking.

A teenager on a bicycle had swerved and nearly crashed into a bush. He was staring at Yuuta with an expression of profound confusion.

The silence stretched.

Yuuta lowered his hands slowly, mechanically, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

He bowed deeply, so deeply that his forehead nearly touched his knees, and began apologizing in a voice that was high-pitched with embarrassment.

"I am so sorry," he said. "I do not know what came over me. Please continue your jogging. Do not mind me. I am fine. Everything is fine. There is nothing to see here."

The couple exchanged glances. The man’s expression shifted from alarm to confusion to something that might have been pity. The woman smiled, not mockingly, but warmly, the way one smiles at a child who has done something embarrassing but endearing.

The elderly woman lowered her hand from her heart and chuckled softly, shaking her head. The dog had stopped barking and was now sniffing the grass, having lost interest.

The teenager on the bicycle muttered something under his breath and pedaled away.

Yuuta remained bowed, his face hidden, his ears burning.

Elena, who had been watching her father with rapt attention, had not moved. Her ice cream was melting, dripping onto her fingers, but she did not seem to notice. Her red eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open, her small brain processing what she had just witnessed.

She set down her ice cream.

She climbed to her feet.

She thrust her small hands forward, mimicking her father’s pose with surprising accuracy. Her silver hair fell across her face. Her tiny chest expanded with a deep breath.

"Kamehame."

She paused. Narrowed her eyes. Believed, with every fiber of her Four-year-old being, that something was about to happen.

"YAHWAAAAA!"

Her scream was higher-pitched than her father’s, but no less enthusiastic. Her silver hair flew backward as if pushed by an invisible wind, though it was probably just the breeze. Her face was scrunched with effort, her cheeks puffed, her eyes squeezed shut.

Yuuta straightened from his bow, his face still red, and grabbed Elena gently by the head. He turned her toward the joggers and bowed again, keeping one hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

"We are both very sorry," he said. "Our behavior was inappropriate. It will not happen again. Please forgive us."

The woman laughed, a genuine laugh, warm and kind, the kind of laugh that came from seeing something unexpectedly delightful. "No need to apologize," she said. "She is adorable."

The man nodded, his expression softening. "We have all done embarrassing things. Do not worry about it."

They resumed their jogging, disappearing around the bend in the path.

Elena turned to her father, her red eyes sparkling with excitement. "Papa, did Elena do it right? Did Elena’s power come out?"

Yuuta looked at his daughter. At her earnest face, her hopeful eyes, her small hands still raised as if expecting an energy blast to emerge at any moment.

He sighed.

Above them, hidden in the branches of an old oak tree, Isvarn watched.

He had not intended to observe the mortal’s training. He had no interest in the struggles of a man who could not even grasp the basics of aura theory. But his hearing was too sharp, his curiosity too persistent, and something, some nagging instinct, kept him here.

He watched Yuuta scream at the sky. He watched Elena copy her father with perfect, innocent enthusiasm. He watched the couple jog past, smiling at the foolishness of the scene.

This is pathetic, he thought. The man cannot even begin to understand what he is trying to learn. He does not know his own origin. He does not know what flows through his veins. He is a child stumbling in the dark, reaching for something he cannot see.

And yet.

Something kept Isvarn watching. Something told him that this foolish man might actually challenge fate itself.

There was something in Yuuta’s eyes, a stubbornness, a refusal to accept defeat, that reminded Isvarn of someone he had known long ago. Someone who had also been called foolish, who had also been told that he could not, who had also refused to listen.

He would keep watching. He would wait. And perhaps, one day, Yuuta would show him something worthy.

Inside the apartment, the air was cold.

Erza sat on the sofa, her legs crossed, her posture perfect, her violet eyes fixed on Fiona with the intensity of a queen addressing a subject. Her hands rested on her knees, her back was straight, her chin was raised. She looked like a painting of royalty, beautiful, untouchable, cold.

Fiona sat on the floor.

The position was deliberate. Erza had not told her to sit there, she had simply stood, waiting, until Fiona understood that she was not welcome on the furniture. The hierarchy was clear. The message was unmistakable.

Erza’s voice was cold when she spoke. "Now, tell me what your agency has decided about my offer."

Fiona’s throat moved. She swallowed. "My chief wants to meet with you. Alone."

Erza’s eyes narrowed. "Alone? For what purpose?"

"To discuss cooperation." Fiona kept her voice steady, though she could feel the cold aura radiating from Erza, pressing against her skin, reminding her of the power differential between them. "My chief wants to cooperate with you. After learning of your power, she believes that an alliance would be beneficial for both parties."

Erza’s eyebrow lifted. "Cooperate with me?"

The words hung in the air, sharp and cold.

"You expect me to meet with some nasty human," Erza said, her voice dripping with disdain, "and cooperate with her? As if we were equals?"

Fiona’s jaw tightened. "No. That is not what I meant."

"Listen carefully, human." Erza uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, her violet eyes boring into Fiona’s. "I need your agency’s help to keep certain things hidden from him." She gestured vaguely toward the window, toward the garden where Yuuta was making a fool of himself. "But I will not cooperate with some nasty human. I do not answer to your superiors. I do not follow your rules. I do not."

She stood and walked toward the balcony, her silver hair swaying behind her. She wanted to see Yuuta. She wanted to watch his foolish attempts to learn aura, to smile at his struggles, to pretend that the world was not ending.

Fiona spoke without looking at her.

"Chief is from Nova."

Erza turned sharply.

For the first time since arriving in the human world, genuine shock appeared on her face.

"Pardon?"

Fiona nodded.

"Yes. Chief is from the The Scarlet Dynasty."

Silence.

Erza’s eyes widened.

Her heartbeat skipped.

Impossible.

The Scarlet Dynasty had been wiped out many centuries ago during the Silent War, a conflict led by the Founder of Zani.

Every member was supposed to be dead.

Then a terrifying thought crossed her mind.

Slowly, she raised her head.

"I would like to meet her."

To be continued...